


Mud Pie

by fresne



Category: Shakespeare - The Tempest
Genre: F/M, Female Protagonist, Yuletide, challenge:Yuletide 2006, recipient:anotherusedpage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-12-20
Updated: 2006-12-20
Packaged: 2017-10-09 20:23:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/91219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fresne/pseuds/fresne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Miranda add persimmons and mint. Kneads the mud between her fingers and confuses Ariel in no small manner.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mud Pie

**Author's Note:**

> The following inspiration for this work and inspiration for my dialogue, where I am not directly quoting, because apt quotes are cool: William Shakespeare's Tempest

There was mud on the ribbons around her braids, falling forward as she worked. Mud on her knees, where she knelt in the grass by the green pool. Her skirts carefully tied back. But Father said that sometimes you had to make sacrifices for things that were important.

Miranda looked at the ripe persimmon in her hand. Smooth and soft. She placed it carefully on the griddle rock and smashed it with her smashing rock. Her Father said that it was important for things to have names. Otherwise, how would they know who they were. That's why he was always reading. So he could know the names of things.

That's why she'd taught Caliban to speak, because words were important. But he'd only thanked her with curses and pinches. But that wasn't important. This was.

When the persimmon was good and mashy, juices leaking into the tall grass, she put what was left into the soft dark mud that she'd put on the mucking rock. There were already honeysuckle flowers and mint and of course mud. She squished the mud between her fingers. Until it oozed between them. Slick with the grind of hidden sand.

"What are you doing Miranda?" said a high flute voice. Ariel was hovering out over the green pool. Making rings in the leafy water. Breezing honeysuckle flowers into yellow summer rain. Except it only rained at night on the island, when Miranda was sleeping. But her Father had told her what rain looked like. He said that someday she would see it for herself. When she was old enough.

"I'm making pie," said Miranda. She kept kneading the mud. Once you started, it was important that you kept going. Otherwise the mud might get hard and then you couldn't have pie. You'd just have mud.

Ariel flew close and looked at Miranda's hands. The mud was already drying. So she scooped a handful of water and wetted the mud.

Ariel flew around the other side. Ariel was holding a gold book. It would be for Father, but Miranda knew better than to ask to read it. Father was her tutor, but some things he wouldn't teach her.

She kept kneading the mud.

Ariel reached out and touched the mud. Licked its fingers and made a face. Miranda said, "Oh," sniffed at her hands, "is there too much mint?"

Ariel turned blue and gusty for a moment and then came back. It said, "It's mud."

Miranda shredded a couple more honeysuckle blossoms, just in case, and said, "Yes."

Ariel buzzed out over the pond and then flew back. It said, "But you said that you're making pie." Ariel did a lazy somersault over a sun beam dusting the pool.

"It will be a pie. It's not done yet," said Miranda. Maybe another persimmon, but no. Her father said it was important to add just the right amount of things. Too little and nothing would happen. Too much and he might blow up the island. Miranda was pretty sure that one persimmon was the right amount.

But that was magic. This was merely pie.

"But it's mud, said Ariel. It came closer to her. Put down the golden book on the long grass, bending it down.

Ariel began to tidy Miranda's hair. That was good. Miranda had been afraid to touch the braids that Ariel had done this morning with the mud on her hands. Ariel said, "Humans can't eat mud." There was a soft brush against her cheek. "I can get you a pie." Ariel untied a dusty velvet ribbon. Ariel said, "A Duke's cherry pie full of tart and sugar." Ariel's fingers unwound a braid and began again. "I could get you a king's pie shaped like a bird with four and twenty black birds baked inside."

Miranda kept smoothing the mud. Cool and minty under her fingers. "The pie isn't for me." She swallowed. This time she'd get it right.

Ariel freed another ribbon and began to lightly tug and tidy. "Oh." Ariel patted the back of Miranda's neck. "Who is it for then?" Ariel came around Miranda. "If your Father wanted a pie, he'd have asked me to bring it to him."

Miranda didn't want to say, but if she didn't Ariel would just keep asking. Ariel could wear anything away. Steady as the sea breeze. Fits and starts and rounded mountain tops. At least that was what her Father said.

Miranda carefully moved the mud onto the carrying bark that she'd gotten ready. She stared at the mud on her hands and said, "It's for Caliban."

"Your Father's poisonous slave, not given human form. Why would you push at the mud for him?" Ariel began to rub at a spot on Miranda's cheek. "He doesn't eat mud either."

Miranda looked up, "But Father said that Sycorax made him from mud and then brought him to life."

Ariel laughed light and high, rippling the water of the pool. "The blue eyed hag had Caliban in the usual way. Groaning the two backed beast, nine months to scream on the sheets."

"The usual way?" Miranda looked back down at her carefully shaped mud pie. "But that's not what Father said."

Ariel laughed again and picked up the golden book. "No. Your mother plucked you from a cabbage leaf.."

"You should take Father his book," said Miranda. She put the pie into an especially bright sunbeam to dry.

Ariel shook it's head. It said, "Caliban is a griddled flax-gudgeon, much too muddy for Prospero's cabbage flower." It brushed her cheek again. "Wash up and when I come back, I'll get you an emperor's jade dog that walks and talks."

Miranda shrugged and started to rinse her hands in the pool. Ariel smiled and flitted off through the trees. There wouldn't be a jade dog. All the really important books were written in gold.

Miranda waited for the pie to dry. Then she picked up the carrying bark. Held it very carefully in her hands. Walked through the tall grass. Stepped high over the green fallen log. Careful. If she dropped the pie, it would break. Walked up the trail. Kept her eyes on the path. She'd been this way so many times, she should know every bump. But she didn't. She tried to remember them all, but she couldn't. So, she looked instead. Stepped over the roots and the stones, until she was standing in front of Caliban's cave.

She took a deep breath and called out, "Caliban. Are you there?"

From the cave there was a grunt. Caliban stumbled rumbled into the light. He was only a few years older than her, but he already almost as tall as Father. Except he was already much wider that Father.

Caliban glared at her. Miranda felt a little queasy in her stomach. He said, "And what does the flax maiden want?"

Miranda held out the carrying bark. All of a sudden it looked small and lumpy and dry. Maybe she should have put in the extra persimmon. She said, "I made you a pie."

Caliban grunted again and came closer until she stood in his shadow. He said, "It's mud. Is that what you think? That I'm mud beneath your greater light." He hit the carrying bark and the pie smashed into the dirt. Scattering persimmon clods.

Miranda shook her head. Tiny braids smacking her cheeks. "No." She swallowed, "I didn't know. I thought you could eat it." She looked down at the ground. Looked at Caliban's shadow. She said, "I could have Ariel get us a pie with black birds in it."

Caliban grunted again. Grabbed her by the shoulders and gave her a little shake. "And if I knock you down, will you scream for Ariel to come save you again?"

She could hardly see his face. Blinded by the sunlight harsh around he head. She whispered, "Yes."

He pushed her back. "Go away flax maiden." Stumbled back into his cave.

She stood in the suddenly bright day staring at the dark. She'd never been inside. The cave opening was exhaling cold air into the hot day.

Miranda shivered.

She carefully picked up the bits of pie, because it was important to clean up after yourself, and went back down the trail.

Maybe she would go down to the white beach and watch the blue waves roll in. Swim in the yellow coral reef and get the mud off her dress. But then she'd ruin the ribbons in her hair.

There was a rumble from the other side of the island. Miranda wondered if today it would rain. So she went home in the bright sunshine to ask her Father.

**Author's Note:**

> If after reading my fiction here, you would like to read more about me and my writing check out my profile.


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